Chapter 488: Chapter 488

Richard began to notice a subtle difference when comparing Pires and Deco on the pitch.

Pires was agile, explosive, and attack-minded, but he could be bullied by physical defenders like Gallante. Deco, on the other hand, had less explosive pace but focused on ball distribution and controlling the tempo. Read full story at novel fire.net

City’s attacking effectiveness underwent a transformation. With Deco deployed in wide midfield, the transition from defense to offense became faster. If Pires had the ball, he might try to take on defenders one-on-one, but Deco focused more on defensive responsibilities and precise passing during counterattacks.

The ball moved faster than any player could run, and the accuracy of his passes made the attack far more effective. Combined with his improved physical fitness since joining City, Deco’s performance had reached a whole new level.

"Zidane scores with a towering header! His first goal of the match levels the score for City just eight minutes into the second half—3-3, 3-3!"

When Zidane scored the equalizer, he charged toward the sidelines, a determined expression on his face, and patted the club badge on his jersey.

The away fans erupted in joy, and a section of them unfurled a giant banner bearing Zidane’s image. The sight of the banner waving, coupled with Zidane’s celebration, sent a ripple through the stadium.

Moments are rare. Usually, fans display the club badge or a tifo design—but a banner dedicated to a player? Only true superstars earn such privileges.

Whether you are a goal-scoring machine, incredibly skillful, or a one-man team—in short, fans reserve this honor for those who inspire them or can change the course of a match. For City, it was an acknowledgment of greatness; only Ronaldo and Zidane had ever received this kind of privilege.

Richard closed his eyes and clenched his fists, feeling that with the score leveled, City’s morale would soar even higher.

Down 2-0 at halftime, City now levelled 3-3 halfway through the second half!

This match had exploded into chaos, and Inter, once in the lead, found themselves completely disoriented by the turnaround!

Despite competing in Serie A, they had been away from Champions League football for too long. Their understanding of elite teams in other leagues was lacking. Coupled with their premature confidence from an early lead, this unexpected turn knocked them off balance.

Simoni’s face was pale, while O’Neill held his chin high, remaining composed.

The game was far from over; anything could happen. He didn’t want his team to lose their cool at this critical moment.

His non-celebration was a reminder to the players. As Zidane stood and raised his fists toward the away fans, O’Neill merely nodded and applauded, acknowledging the player’s performance.

This was how it should be. Having worked to unleash Zidane’s attacking prowess, he knew the player was in his prime—it was time to deliver results. So he wasn’t surprised that Zidane, seemingly out of nowhere, had suddenly scored.

Inter began launching aggressive counterattacks, throwing everything into their offense and creating an exhilarating spectacle—but it also posed significant risks.

Three minutes later, with his energy waning, Baggio attempted to break through Lampard but lost the ball to a solid tackle.

The solid challenge had not only stopped the danger but also reinforced his belief in his own abilities. Every player feeds off moments —a successful action on the pitch can ignite composure, sharpen focus, and fuel the drive to dominate the next play.

Experience is the key!

Encountering Cauet in midfield, Lampard quickly passed the ball to Zanetti, who immediately sprinted forward.

Under pressure from Galante, Zanetti reached the edge of the defensive line and executed a quick one-two with Deco, advancing fluidly up the pitch.

As the play unfolded, Zidane and Trezeguet pushed forward side by side, creating width and options for the attack. Freed from Galante’s pressure, Zanetti made a short run toward the penalty box before delivering a pass into the penalty box.

Taribo West, feeling the pressure, turned away, not daring to put a foot out for fear of scoring an own goal—the ball was moving too quickly.

But his hesitation proved costly. In the central area directly in front of the goal, Trezeguet darted ahead of Bergomi, using the arch of his foot to nudge the ball into the net.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!"

Pagliuca erupted in fury, shouting angrily at his teammates.

"Trezeguet has done it again! He’s scored his second goal—and seventh overall so far for Manchester City in all competitions! They were two goals down at halftime, and now, with only 15 minutes to go, it’s City 4, Inter Milan 3! And this is happening right here at the Giuseppe Meazza!"

The reigning champions had the elite club smiling in the first half, but now, City had stolen those smiles and replaced them with tears. City fans erupted in celebration—they had every reason to! Meanwhile, Inter supporters looked stunned, many shaking their heads in disbelief at the whirlwind of events that had unfolded in the second half.

Moratti watched the match from his VIP box. In the first half, every goal by Inter had him leaping in celebration, his enthusiasm rivaling that of the most fervent fans in the stands. But now, he sat smoking nervously, his face heavy with gloom, as if the apocalypse were approaching.

He couldn’t understand what more Internazionale needed. What was still missing?

In football, great minds are often haunted by questions like these.

Keegan wonders why his defense collapses so easily, while Moratti frets over why all of Inter’s massive investments over the years haven’t translated into dominance against teams with seemingly fewer stars. Some, like England’s manager Hoddle, search for answers in the most absurd places—even attributing failures to witchcraft. But here, now, Moratti knew it was something else.

His eyes slowly shifted to the City players. One in particular—the number four—stood out. Tirelessly rising and falling along the right flank, he seemed unstoppable, relentless, an engine that refused to quit.

Trezeguet raced toward the sidelines, arms outstretched, eyes wide with exhilaration—but his momentum was abruptly halted as teammates tackled him to the ground in a joyous heap. Laughter, shouts, and cheers filled the air as the substitutes abandoned the bench, charging onto the pitch to join the pile.

"Luci, Gennaro, be ready!"

Mourinho’s voice cut sharply across the technical area—calm yet commanding, leaving no room for hesitation. He called over Lucio and Gattuso, who had been celebrating, instructing them to warm up, put on their jerseys, and get ready to play.

He shut himself in, briefly scanning the pitch, reading the flow of the game like a chessboard, as the tension of the moment settled over him.

"Lucio is getting ready for a substitution from the sidelines. Zidane is coming off. It seems O’Neill is preparing to adjust his tactics after taking the lead."

"Yes, and Gennaro Gattuso is already ready on the sidelines too. From what I can see, it looks like Ronaldinho will be the next to come off. He’s clearly struggling to keep up; during the last attack, he didn’t even make the effort to sprint forward."

The commentator’s eyes were sharp.

Zidane caught sight of his number being displayed on the sidelines, signaling his substitution. He nodded before walking toward the sideline.

For a brief moment, time seemed to slow, before the stadium erupted in applause—the roar of thousands washing over him as fans rose to their feet in a standing ovation. He paused, letting the cheers sink in, and clapped in return, acknowledging the admiration with a humble smile.

Inter, on the other hand, made no substitutions, but the camera caught Simoni waving his arms, signaling the team to attack with abandon.

From that moment on, in the final stages of the game, City simply couldn’t push forward. It wasn’t that their attacks were ineffective—the players just couldn’t maintain the high-tempo sprints required to sustain the game.

After falling behind 0-2 against Inter Milan, Zambrotta and Zanetti had sprinted relentlessly, displaying incredible intensity. By now, the two defenders were already exhausted. As the game entered its final stage, Lucio replaced Zidane, signaling that City wanted to reinforce their defense.

O’Neill took a seat, sipping water, his expression unreadable as he observed the game.

Gattuso had already changed into his jersey, jumping eagerly at the sideline in preparation.

Inter Milan launched a barrage of attacks within a span of five minutes. However, their attempts through the center yielded little success. With Makélélé and Lampard anchoring the midfield and Lucio adding extra cover in defense, City was hardly threatened by Inter’s centralized assault. The tightly packed defensive structure made it extremely difficult for Inter players to find openings.

With Zidane gone, Simeone found more freedom and joined the central attack. Yet, with more players crowding the middle, there was little space for passing or movement. Inter Milan’s errors became frequent—Baggio’s through ball was intercepted by Makélélé, who immediately sent a diagonal pass to the unmarked Zanetti on the right flank.

The right-back received the ball and attempted a through pass to Deco, who had stayed onside. Unfortunately, he mishandled it just outside the penalty area, the ball bouncing away and allowing Pagliuca to rush out and safely collect it.

But before the goalkeeper could fully secure the ball, Ronaldinho kicked it out of play and looked toward the bench.

At that moment, the referee signaled for a substitution. City made their last substitution with a clear intention—wasting more time. Gattuso was ready to come on as a substitute for Ronaldinho.

Seeing this, Ronaldinho let out a sigh of relief. Just as he was about to quicken his pace and jog off the pitch, he noticed Mourinho standing nearby, hand raised in a slow, deliberate motion—calm down, calm down.

Ronaldinho froze, tilting his head.

But as he looked closer, the meaning became clear. It wasn’t calm down, it was slow down!

In other words: ’Don’t jog, walk! If you can, chat, clap your hands, or do whatever—come on, waste some time!’

Ronaldinho nodded and began to pretend to wipe his sweat, slowing down deliberately. But how could the Inter players not notice this?

They urged him to hurry off the pitch, but Ronaldinho didn’t care. He shook hands with the main referee, as if asking him to hurry things along as well. Then Ronaldinho pretended to jog—but his steps were slow, almost exaggerated.

Inter were livid, especially some of the senior players.

El Cholo especially, who had already lost his patience, suddenly lunged and pushed Ronaldinho—but Ronaldinho, unaware of the push, tripped spectacularly.

No one knew who shouted it first, but soon the scene became chaotic: Inter and City players swarmed around Ronaldinho, who appeared to be in some pain.

The atmosphere at the Meazza surged back to life as Inter fans roared in unison, sensing the drama.

It was an insane match—a comeback, and now, a fight.

Players from both sides surrounded the scene, while the referee tried to restore order, but the tension was palpable. Inter players fumed, gesturing wildly, while City’s squad huddled protectively around their superstar.

Gattuso, still fresh, was instantly pumped the moment he saw the scuffle. He didn’t wait for any signal. Without hesitation, he dashed onto the pitch.

"Ehi, indietro! Indietro!" he shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos.

When Richard saw Gattuso running madly toward the fray, his mouth couldn’t help but twitch.

Roberto Baggio, who witnessed Gattuso’s sudden appearance and involvement in the scuffle, was stunned.

"Ref!" he shouted, pointing directly at Gattuso.

The referee was equally stunned to see a "stranger" on the field. He looked up and down, confused. No sweat... wait. Suddenly, he began scanning the City players.

One, two, three... ten, eleven, twelve?!

The rules were clear: a substitution cannot take place in the middle of a fight or while the ball is in play. The referee must stop the game first. Only then can a player leave the field and a substitute enter.

Even during a fight, a substitute has no right to enter the pitch. If a player runs onto the field without the referee’s permission, it is considered entering without authorization, which can result in a yellow card—or even a red card—depending on the severity.

"FUCK!" Mourinho instantly erupted in rage as he saw this.

Richard also rubbed his temples. Thankfully, by the time Ronaldinho finally meandered off the pitch—after what felt like an eternity—more than a full minute had passed. Enough to give City a small, guilty grin.

Richard glanced at his watch. 90+1. Perfect.

He slumped back into his seat, exhaling like he’d just survived a minor earthquake.

On the City bench, Mourinho, meanwhile, was still sputtering, waving his arms as if trying to physically erase what he had just witnessed, while O’Neill tried to calm him down.